Conflict of Interest
by Remember Geta
Summary: Yagami Taichi is a successful divorce lawyer far too proud to make the kinds of mistakes in love his clients have—until the day she comes into his office. Motomiya Daisuke is an ambitious law intern, willing to do anything to advance his career—until the day he meets his rival. [TaichixMimixYamato] [DaisukexTakeruxKen]
1. Chapter 1

**Conflict of Interest**

* * *

**Summary**: Yagami Taichi is a successful divorce lawyer far too proud to make the kinds of mistakes in love his clients have—until the day she comes into his office.

* * *

"All right, you got this, Takeru. You got this."

Balancing a thin cardboard take-out tray of four steaming hot plastic cups of coffee, a folder of important files and documents, a suit jacket and a briefcase, and a plate of freshly baked scones, Takaishi Takeru paused outside the door of his boss's office, took a deep breath and steadied his nerves, repeating the encouraging mantra to himself under his breath as he prepared to face the start of another cranky day, before pushing the door open with his shoulder and striding cheerfully into the room.

The office was empty, though he could hear the shower running in the adjoining bathroom suite, the door closed. Takeru went first to the windows and pulled open the shades to let the morning sun stream in. For the briefest of moments, Takeru paused to admire the incredible view from the 81st floor of their sky-rise offices, overlooking the splendor of the awakening city.

Then the wall clock chimed 6:30AM, and Takeru startled out of his daydream and picked up the pace.

He moved gracefully to the small coffee table in front of a priceless suede couch in the corner of the extravagantly designed office and placed the scones and coffee on the glass tabletop, neatly arranging them around the bowl of fruit that had already been replenished that morning by the intern, Takeru guessed. He made a quick scan through the bowl and in horror snatched up the small kiwi that had been inadvertently left at the bottom, quickly pocketing it before anyone saw, reminding himself to yell at the intern again for forgetting the specific fruit order.

Then, Takeru went to the beautifully carved closet near the mahogany desk, hanging up the suit jacket, and retrieving another, more expensive suit ensemble, which he carefully laid out on the fainting couch beside the closet. He set the briefcase down on the desk, popped it open replaced the folders already inside with the ones he'd carried into the room, moving to the file cabinets to organize the old folders among the various compartments.

It was just as he filed away the last of the folders and shut the drawer that the bathroom door opened, and out walked his boss.

Yagami Taichi was still dripping water everywhere, towel draped over his shoulders as he used one end to absentmindedly dry off his short, dark brown hair. He wore only plain, black boxers and a tired expression on his gruff face, barely acknowledging his assistant beaming at him brightly.

"Good morning, Mr Yagami," said Takeru happily. "How was the swim this morning?"

"There was a kiwi in the fruit bowl," answered Taichi sharply, ignoring the earlier question and stepping into the suit pants that Takeru had laid out on the fainting couch just moments earlier.

"It's already been taken care of," promised Takeru about the criminal fruit. Taichi glanced at him knowingly, and Takeru added, "I'll get a new intern by lunch."

The older man nodded approvingly, now finishing up his tie and slipping on the suit jacket.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr Yagami?"

"A better tie," frowned Taichi, throwing off the one he'd been wearing when he glanced at himself in the mirror. "And I need the files from the Tsubukuro case, the character witness statement for Mrs Koizumi, and cancel my lunch meeting with Jyou, tell him to move it to breakfast instead, 7:40 at the Blue Inn, have Miyako make the reservation."

"Yes, sir," nodded Takeru. He closed the door behind him and let out a long sigh.

"What's the damage?" asked Taichi's secretary, a pretty bespectacled girl named Inoue Miyako. She had been hovering, tense, over her desk beside the door to Taichi's office, waiting for any instructions as soon as Takeru could give them.

Takeru took out the kiwi fruit from his pocket and Miyako groaned. "Again?"

"This time, put 'must have kiwi allergy' on the internship opening call," said Takeru, half jokingly. "And you need to call for a breakfast meeting at the Blue Inn, 7:40."

"Today?" cried Miyako. "But they book up weeks in advance—,"

"Work your magic, Miyako," shrugged Takeru as he returned to his own desk a few cubicles away. He picked up the phone to dial Jyou from the floor below to let him know of the change in schedule.

He was answered by an annoyed growl, "I already have a breakfast meeting with a potential client. Tell Taichi to—,"

"To what?" interrupted Takeru. "You really want to say no to him?"

"Fine, I'll just have my client meet me at the restaurant afterwards. Can you extend the reservation?"

"Miyako is going to kill you."

"It wouldn't be the first time she's tried."

Takeru laughed, hanging up and clicking open a new instant message window on his computer to Miyako, typing Jyou's request.

_Fuck you all_, was her response, with a negative emoticon attached.

_You couldn't get a table?_

_I get everything I want._

* * *

At 7:50, Kido Jyou finally stumbled into the restaurant, unbuttoning his suit as he sat down in the chair opposite his law firm partner. The latter held out a tray of bread but Jyou shook his head, downing the glass of juice the waiter had brought instead.

"All right, sorry I'm late, what do you want?"

"You have to try this bread," insisted Taichi.

"I already had breakfast, Tai."

"Trust me, you haven't had bread like this. On Thursdays they bring out the new pastry of the week." He held up a delectable looking bun, "This is the cranberry walnut brioche and it is something to kill a man for."

"I said, I wasn't hungry—,"

"Oh, come on, trust me!"

And then, suddenly, it dawned on Jyou. He stopped protesting and gaped openly at the man across from him. Taichi stared back, mouth full. "What?" he managed to muffle out, blinking his wide brown eyes innocently.

"This isn't really a meeting, is it?"

"What are you talking about? We're meeting, aren't we?"

Jyou threw up his hands. "I really can't believe you made us all change our calendars just so you could eat breakfast here!"

"Hey, it got you here. Now calm down and try this orange marmalade—,"

"Taichi!" cried his partner. "I had a client coming!"

"So do I! A big one, too, for lunch. Another reason to have a heart healthy breakfast in preparation."

Jyou sat back in utter speechlessness, shaking his head.

Taichi continued, "Jyou, what is the point in having an entire office terrified of you, hanging on to your every word, following your every bidding, if you can't troll them once in a while for a phenomenal breakfast at one of the best restaurants in town, on a perfectly beautiful day, and enjoy a pleasant meal with a good friend?"

"That would imply I am your friend," snapped Jyou, "and that I don't have more important work to do."

"Do you?" asked Taichi.

"Yes, and she'll be here any minute!"

"Well, you should be thanking me that a new client gets to meet you here! What a better first impression than a place like this? Win her over with one of these blueberry vanilla scones and she'll hire us in a second, trust me."

Jyou hesitated, unable to dispute that statement.

"Give me a break, Jyou. I swam 20 laps this morning, almost had to touch a kiwi, and had to wear this ugly tie until Takeru could find me a new one. It's been a tough morning for me, too, you know. Now all I want to do is this morning is have a nice getting-to-know over a charming breakfast and enjoy myself. So relax, Kido. Eat something!"

"How do you get up every day?" muttered Jyou sarcastically.

Taichi grinned and winked.

"My client really is going to meet me here though, so don't overstay the welcome."

"I will leave as soon as—,"

"Gentlemen," a new voice interrupted sweetly. Both men looked up from their table to see an elegantly dressed young woman standing before them, wearing a smart navy blue pin-stripe skirt and a high-collar sleeveless white blouse. "I hope I am not interrupting."

"Mrs Tachikawa!" exclaimed Jyou in surprise, immediately standing up and taking her outstretched hand. "I didn't expect you this early!"

"When you called to change the meeting so you could breakfast with your partner, I just had to take the opportunity to meet you both. I hope I didn't overstep my boundaries."

"Absolutely not," insisted Jyou, "though I am afraid my partner was just about to leave for an important call back at the office." He glanced at Taichi with a knowing look, but Taichi ignored him.

"What are secretaries for if not for taking messages?" said Taichi, standing up, too. He held out his hand. "Yagami Taichi."

She smiled but did not take his hand, "Tachikawa Mimi. Pleasure."

"Indeed," he said, summoning over a waiter to bring a third chair.

"Oh, no, it's not necessary," she said.

"But I thought we were going to have our informational meeting today regarding your case?" asked Jyou cautiously.

"Well, we were, but I am afraid I don't have enough time this morning for what I had hoped we could have discussed over lunch." (Here Jyou discreetly threw Taichi a dirty look.) "I would be happy to reschedule that meeting for another day, but I at least wanted to introduce myself and meet my potential representatives."

"I assure you this rescheduling was due to a very unusual circumstance," continued Jyou, "and our clients always come first at this firm."

Her eyes drifted momentarily to the plate of breakfast pastries they had been eating, and Taichi's loosely pulled tie, and Jyou's unbuttoned jacket. She smiled at them again, knowingly, "Of course." She retrieved a business card from her purse and placed it in Jyou's open palm, "I will have my assistant call you for that meeting shortly."

"Thank you, Mrs Tachikawa."

"Good day, gentlemen." She smiled again, though this time Jyou flinched at the unmistakable coldness to her expression as she nodded briefly at them and left the restaurant.

Jyou took up a cinnamon roll and popped it Taichi's face, hitting him square in the jaw. "Hey!" cried Taichi, swatting the pastry away in shock as the waiter nearby dived to save the pastry. "You're going to get us kicked out if you keep throwing the food!"

"Do you have any idea what your breakfast prank cost us?"

"Kido, you're making a scene."

"Don't you realize who she is?" cried Jyou again, grabbing for another roll but Taichi yanked it out of his hands.

"Yes, a client—,"

"Wrong, an ex-client, thanks to you," glared Jyou. "And she's not just any ex-client, Taichi. Do you realize who she is married to?"

"An idiot?"

"Ishida Yamato."

Taichi stopped, eyes wide. "The singer?"

"Exactly." Jyou sighed.

Taichi stared at him. "And you let a client as prominent as her get away?"

There was a second of silence before Jyou let out an inhuman cry and grabbed the entire basket of rolls off the table, as the panicked waiter threw himself to save the breakfast pastries from sudden pelting and Taichi ducked away, sprinting free from the attack with Jyou yelling after him.

* * *

Takeru looked up at the computer, hearing the familiar ping of an incoming instant message. He saw the window with Miyako's name blinking and clicked on it.

_Watch out, the downstairs office says Kido looks pissed. Guess the breakfast didn't go well._

He smiled, _Gotcha. Thanks for the warning._

_Anytime, babe. xx_

Takeru stood up, gathering up his documents into the folder, and escaped through a side corridor back to his boss's office, entering just as he glimpsed Taichi rounding the corner from the other end of the hallway. Inside the office, Takeru quickly replaced the empty water jug with a fresh pitcher from the fridge and cleared off the table, filing away the folder in the cabinet just as the door opened.

He strode over with a bottle of water, "Here you are, Mr Yagami," he said. "How was breakfast?"

Taichi waved him aside, taking off the suit jacket. "Get me everything we have on the Ishida case."

Takeru blinked in surprised, taken aback. "What?"

"The Ishida case, Takeru," repeated Taichi in annoyance, not looking up. "That was who Jyou was supposed to meet with and now we have to get the client back, all because he decided to—,"

"Ishida Yamato?" asked Takeru, still shocked.

"_No_," snapped Taichi sarcastically, "the _other_ nationally-acclaimed singer-songwriter with the multi-million-dollar estate who's about to divorce his wife in what has the potential to be the biggest celebrity settlement this country has ever seen." He shook his head, "Of course, Ishida Yamato! Or, technically, his wife—or, I guess, ex-wife at this point."

Takeru couldn't speak, "…divorce?"

"For God's sake, Takaishi, what kind of a law firm do you think this is?"

It was then that Taichi looked up and saw the ashen expression on the younger man's face. He frowned, "What's the matter with you?"

Takeru blinked out of his emotional stupor. "Nothing. I just…."

"_What_?" repeated Taichi in impatient exasperation, irritated.

"I just found out my brother is getting a divorce." In spite of himself, he almost laughed, "Not even nine o'clock, and my family's falling apart."

And it would only get worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Conflict of Interest**

* * *

Ishida Yamato answered the phone on the fourth ring of the third phone call in a row to his private studio, annoyed. "Iori, I asked you to—,"

"It's your brother," interrupted his accountant.

Here, Yamato paused, taken aback. Hida Iori took advantage of the hesitation to finish his message, now that he had finally gotten Yamato to even answer the phone at all.

"He says it's urgent."

"You know my policy," said Yamato after a moment, recovering his composure coolly. "No calls when I'm working."

"Yamato, you haven't spoken in what, years now?"

"Eleven months," he corrected testily, "and it's not like the phone is a one-way mechanism."

"Well, he's calling now. As your friend, I advise you to stop being a brat."

Yamato rolled his eyes at the comment. "Fine, patch him through to the bedroom phone."

He hung up the studio phone and turned his attention back to the soundboard, adjusting another dial before turning the volume to a softer level. Hitting the playback button, he listened intently through his headphones to the sample he had mixed, nodding to himself in satisfaction. He pulled the headphones off his thick blond hair and spoke into his microphone, "All right, take five, guys. I'll be back."

His producer gave him the thumbs up as Yamato stepped back and walked through the second door to the soundproofed studio room, which lead directly into his bedroom. The room was a mess, with papers and dishes and scores and clothes everywhere. Immediately he scowled, annoyed that the housekeeper hadn't gotten around to this part of the penthouse yet, then caught himself when he remembered where the housekeeper was, and who she had left with. His scowl deepened. _Bitch._

Settling himself on the king-sized circular bed in the center of the richly decorated bedroom, he picked up the cordless bedroom phone and pressed the blinking call waiting button.

"Takeru."

"You're getting a divorce?"

Yamato smirked, "Well, I guess the papers finally found out."

"I shouldn't be hearing stuff like this from the papers, and definitely not from my own boss!"

At that Yamato's eyebrow raised and he straightened. "She was there? Already?"

"Apparently they had breakfast together this morning."

A quick glance at the wall clock made Yamato sigh in exasperation. "Don't you think having my wife consult the most powerful family law firm in the city is news I should probably be told before nearly midnight?"

"I tried calling earlier," said Takeru flatly.

"Right. Sorry, I've been in the studio all day."

"Escaping?"

"Working," said Yamato in a firm voice. "What do you want, Takeru?"

"I want to talk—,"

"Well, it seems to me that if she's using your firm, talking to me is a conflict of interest."

"You're my brother, Yamato!"

"We're brothers, fine, but we're not friends." He heard Takeru take a quick intake of breath, but Yamato didn't regret the harshness of his tone. Instead, he continued, "Why don't you call me back in another eleven months, we'll make it a regular thing," and hung up angrily.

"Well, that was honest."

Yamato looked up defensively, "I don't want to talk about it."

Iori shook his head. "You keep pushing people away, Yamato, and one day people are actually going to leave."

"Yeah, and she's already done that, hasn't she?" He turned away and stalked angrily back into the studio, slamming the door violently behind him. Barking an order through the microphone for the producers to go home, he waited until the meek-looking pair left the adjoining studio booth before sitting down at the bench and turning on the keyboard.

He let his fingers rest lightly on the plastic keys, spread and poised to begin playing, but he couldn't stop shaking. Leaning forward, he put his face in hands, elbows resting on the keys heavily in a sudden, sharp and short cacophony of notes.

"Fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth.

She had seen a divorce lawyer. And not just any—the most ruthless and successful ones. Yamato had heard that law firm's name in various other cases, with athletes or prominent businessmen, people who were in positions of celebrated popularity and who required discretion. The fact that she had finally gone through on the threats, had actually done it, really meant it was over. It was no longer a trial separation turned into an actual estrangement. This was real.

"Fuck," he repeated again and again, eyes prickling angrily and in pained frustration and disbelief. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

* * *

Takeru slumped into his chair, staring at the phone on the desk. He wasn't really surprised Yamato had hung up on him. It hadn't been the first time they'd fought. In fact, Takeru couldn't remember a time when they weren't fighting. But he had thought in spite of all their issues, family still came first. To think that his own brother wouldn't even confide in him at the end of his marriage—

"Shut up, Takeru," he told himself sternly, guiltily.

Yamato had been right. How could Takeru actually think of himself as kind of brother a sibling could confide in? It had been months since they'd spoken last, and the last time he'd seen his older brother had been at least some years before that. It hadn't been intentional. They were the children of divorced parents, but also joint-custody parents who had split the children up between the pair of them. Takeru grew up with his mother; Yamato with their father on the other side of the country, though as children it felt like the other side of the world. The whole family had let familial ties slip through the cracks—why wouldn't friendship go next?

"You're still here?"

He looked up to see Miyako leaning over the top of the cubical wall, smiling at him kindly.

He smiled, "Can't leave until he does. You know the drill."

"Oh, you know you could sneak out any time and he wouldn't even notice."

Takeru shook his head. "He's the boss."

"Well, the new intern starts next week and then you can make them do whatever you want," she winked at him.

"He'll be gone in two weeks, tops."

"Care to bet on that wager?"

"I never gamble, Miyako."

Miyako grinned, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly after plucking down a crisp clean note from her wallet on the desk in front of him, "Never say never."

* * *

Jyou rescheduled the informational meeting for an afternoon tea two days later, beginning by apologizing profusely again for his partner's antics and the reason for the rescheduling in the first place. But the woman politely dismissed his anxious words, assuring him no harm was done, though Jyou knew better than to believe the deceptively sweet tone of hers. In the extra time that Taichi's behavior had unknowingly bought him to prepare for this eventual meeting, Jyou had had his office do their digging.

Tachikawa Mimi was not a woman to be trifled with. With all the evidence he'd been able to gather so far, she was a remarkably clever and calculated woman, who had managed to rise to the board of directors of a company built by her late father and managed by board members who far surpassed her in age and experience, yet were nowhere near as easily successful. She had grown up being told repeatedly that she could own the world, and now that she was an adult, it seemed she was the closest to doing so that Jyou could find of any of his clients.

So when the heiress had married the music industry's most sought after bachelor, the press had had a simultaneous orgasm of commercial delight. And as news would eventually break about the legal separation, Jyou was certain an equal media reaction was in store. His job, however, was to make sure she would be shielded from as much unwanted pressure from the press as possible. His firm was known for that, and that was why she had approached those weeks earlier through a personal secretary at her father's company— or rather, her company.

"I apologize for asking you to meet me here, so far from your firm's offices," said Mimi without an ounce of actual regret in her softspoken tone of voice.

Jyou couldn't decide if he liked her or not, thought it wasn't his business or interest to make judgment on clients' personalities—though she definitely seemed to be making an impression on his nerves.

He politely said, "It's no trouble at all. Now, my partner and I would like to tell you a bit more about the kind of service you would receive from our firm. I will be directly representing you in all procedures, along with a select few members of my trusted team, all of whom have signed the necessary confidentially contracts for clients of your stature. I promise you that nothing will be dealt with in your case that won't go directly through me or my team. This kind of close working, professional relationship is what you can always rely on from our firm."

Taking a pause after the long rehearsed introduction, he opened the binder on the table in front of him and continued, "Now, I understand that there is a potential...familial relations problem with regards to your case, but I believe we can reach an understanding on that issue."

"Actually, I have already made my investigation into your firm, so these introductions really aren't necessary," she said, waving a delicate hand. Immediately, and to Jyou seemingly out of nowhere, a woman approached the table and handed her a thin manila folder.

Mimi smiled graciously at the woman, dismissing her back to her place at a table nearby in the restaurant.

Jyou stared at the woman in shock, having had assumed she had been another patron at the restaurant, rather than a member of Mimi's entourage, mouth parting slightly to ask who she was. Before Jyou could get a word out, Mimi was talking again.

"I understand the firm is quite successful, with lawyers and attorneys who are certainly credited for numerous successes in court." She looked up from the file and smiled. "But that's not really very interesting to me. And as for the...familial relation, as you call it, it's really not a legitimate concern. He is not family to me. I have no qualms or conflicted interest, and believe me when I say I have thought and researched my options fully, even in spite of our earlier confusion the other day. I have every confidence in both you and your partner, and your legal team, assuming of course you are able to do as I request, when I request it."

Jyou let the reference to the disastrous would-be breakfast meeting go, wishing he could smack Tacihi again. "Then how can I assist you, Ms Tachikawa?"

"Please, call me Mimi," she smiled again. Jyou was starting to hate the way she smiled, that fake, sugary plastic of a gesture.

He forced a polite nod. "Mimi."

"Have you ever been married, Mr Kido?"

Jyou held up his right hand, revealing a shiny wedding band. "Three years next month."

Her smile widened, "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Will you divorce her?"

Jyou blinked, surprised. "I don't know if I feel comfortable answering that question."

Mimi nodded understandingly. "Of course not. But please, don't lie to me. I am sure you—in your profession—have thought about it. How could you ever marry someone without thinking what divorcing them would be like? It's a nasty idea, and a terrible practice, really. Expensive, emotional, exasperating and excruciating." She paused, "Divorce, I mean," she added with a laugh. "Not marriage."

Jyou smiled awkwardly. "Of course."

Mimi continued, "I am not interested in the press. I am not interested in contesting. Here are my income declarations and my schedule of assets. I have also notified you of my intended plea in the petition, and I fully intend to be the file first." She slid the thin folder across the table towards him happily. "If you can convince him to agree to the uncontested proceedings, than I will gladly continue your services of representation. If not," she trailed off with a shrug.

Jyou picked up the folder. "You certainly do seem to have it all planned out."

"I plan everything out," Mimi said. "Habit."

"Some of the best laid plans are our greatest weaknesses," he muttered offhandedly, realizing too late that he had uttered the statement aloud and she had heard. He looked up quickly in guilt, but that damned smile still hadn't left her face.

"Then I hope you aren't a weakness."

* * *

Mimi waited until five minutes after the lawyer had finally left their afternoon meeting to slump forward in her chair, arms on the table, and sigh. Almost immediately the woman from before appeared at her side, holding a glass of white wine and gesturing the waiter over to take their order. But Mimi waved him aside when the waiter approached, taking only the wine and sipping deeply.

"You have to eat something," said Takenouchi Sora with concern.

Mimi shook her head, "I don't have an appetite now."

"You haven't had one since you left him." Sora paused cautiously, "Mi, I really think that if you just called—,"

"Sora," said Mimi sharply, "don't. Do not start."

Her red-haired friend stopped, frowning deeply.

Mimi looked away, "Do you think this is what I wanted?"

"You know I don't."

She hesitated, then asked in the first honest tone she'd spoken in all day, crumbling inside, "Do you think this is what I want?"

Sora bent over and wrapped a protective arm around her young friend, whispering, "You know you don't."

* * *

That morning, Taichi's alarm went off, as usual, but this time he hit the snooze button and buried his face deeper into the office couch. He slumbered on, exhausted from the week of pouring over endless documents, until the alarm seemed to beep again less than ten minutes later. Annoyed, Taichi, without opening his eyes, reached up and smacked the snooze button again, effectively knocking the alarm clock clear off the windowsill—and straight into the back of a stranger wandering inside the office suite.

"What the hell are you doing?" Taichi exclaimed, furious at Takeru for interrupting his sleep.

But then he stopped, because standing in the room wasn't a trusted though sheepish looking Takeru. Instead, it was a young, handsome man with tanned olive skin and wide brown eyes. He was dressed in a suit that was far too good for him, and a tad size too large, and Taichi realized he had to be the intern—only plucky, ambitious interns ever dressed so horribly, as they couldn't afford anything decent at the internship level of employment.

"I'm sorry, sir," stuttered the young man in shock.

Taichi glowered, "Get out."

"I—uh, it's just that it's morning, sir."

"Get. Out."

"Mr Yagami, you have a full morning today—I really have to insist you at least look at your calendar here and—,"

The alarm clock went off again and with an aggravated cry, Taichi leapt up off the couch and dived for the contraption, ready to hurl it out the window, when he at last saw the time it was blinking in panic.

"It's six o'clock!" he cried out.

"I didn't know if I should wake you earlier or—,"

"Always—_always_—wake me earlier!" barked Taichi angrily, furious at himself for missing his nearly daily morning exercise routine before work. There was no time for that now, and he cursed his exhaustion and lack of discipline. It must have been the alcohol from the night before, at dinner with that insufferable woman his mother had set him up with and who she had guilted him into seeing after threatening to have a medical emergency if he didn't acquiesce at least once. _Never again_, he told himself. He started undoing his shirt, having slept in it in the office the night before after a long night of reading, "Where's Takeru?"

"Who?" asked the young man in genuine confusion.

"How did you even get in here?"

"The…door?"

Taichi stopped and looked at the man now, after that comment that he wasn't quite sure was actually spoken in jest or now. The man looked back at him with sincere eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile played on his lips. Taichi blinked and it was gone, replaced by a very serious expression. "I came in early. It's my first day." He strode forward, hand outstretched. "The name is Motomiya Daisuke. It's a pleasure to finally meet you; I have followed all of your trials since—,"

"Get out, Daisuke."

"Yes, sir."

"And Daisuke," called Taichi just as the man was about to shut the door behind him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring me the summons documents for the Ishida case and coffee, three coffees."

"Already on the table."

That's when Taichi saw what Daisuke had been doing in the office as he was dozing off. The coffee table was refreshed with a plate of baked goods and four cups of coffee from his favorite take-out shop, the bowl of fruit containing no kiwi in sight. On the desk was his briefcase, open and containing a large, thick folder with the name ISHIDA printed in block letters, nearly arranged. And on the fainting couch was a new suit for the day.

Taichi's eyebrow raised, curious, as Daisuke added, "I took the liberty. Is there anything else you need?"

"No." The word sounded foreign to say in such a situation, but as Taichi looked around, he realized he actually didn't need anything more for the moment.

"I'm just outside the door if you need me, sir." And with that he was gone, and the office was empty again.

Taichi stood very confused for a moment longer, when the door opened again. He expected Takeru, but instead it was just his secretary, carrying a pad of sticky notes and the day's printed schedule, which she tacked to the wallboard behind the desk as ususal. "Good morning, Mr Yagami. I have some memos here for you, and also a confirmation that your nine o'clock phone conference is still on schedule, though the nine-thirty conference has been postponed to ten-forty-five. Mr Kido asked to have a late lunch downstairs with the new client at one, however, so I have cleared up your early afternoon. Is there anything else I can do for your schedule today?"

"No, that should be fine."

"Of course, Mr Yagami."

Miyako shut the door behind her and glared at Daisuke, who was still lingering in the hallway excitedly. "I don't think I forgot to do anything!" he said happily, unable to see that she wasn't reciprocating his enthusiasm for the over-the-top performance of his first morning on the job. Rather, she was resentful of his suspicious ambitiousness, in the way that anyone in a field as competitive as this would be. _Takeru, where are you? _she thought to herself in concerned annoyance, _This kid is showing us all up and he's only been here for an hour! _"I got the coffee, the files, the suit—,"

"Just get back to your desk," Miyako snapped defensively, "and take care not to overstep yourself again."

She watched him hurriedly walk off in obedience, then dove for her desk nearby and grabbed her phone out of the purse in the cabinet drawer. She texted Takeru quickly, _Get off Ken and get in here NOW. JOB AT STAKE. INTERN IS SATAN._ She added an angry emoticon for good measure and hit send, sliding down in her chair with worry as she noticed the time slip towards 6:15AM.

_You better have a good excuse, Takeru…._


End file.
